[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-shadow-empire":3,"chapter-the-shadow-empire-the-shadow-empire-chapter-929":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Shadow Empire",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2268549,4428,"Chapter 929: Making Money Isn","the-shadow-empire-chapter-929",929,"\u003Cp>The reporter knew what the editor wanted, and he knew what kind of story would win him the Gold Paper Award.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had once believed that for the sake of journalism and media justice, he could sacrifice everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But at this moment, he suddenly felt… agonized.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter’s silence made Ogg’s wife realize that this reporter truly had a job suited to him—at least, he had a lead!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She looked at the reporter, grabbing his arm, “Please, my family desperately needs a job!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ogg… I don’t know how to put it, but clearly he won’t find work anytime soon—certainly not a job paying as well as before.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nearly double the wage of an ordinary worker—this was indeed a high-income job, for Ogg and his family, who were ordinary people too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, the garment factories won’t hire him because he still sees himself as a “Master Tailor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In factories, Master Tailors represent a group outside the factory system—they have their own break rooms, their own dining halls, and even eat food provided by the factory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They handle the most critical steps: cutting, sewing, measuring, pressing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When a batch of fabric arrives, no one in the factory—not the owner nor the junior cutters—knows how to cut it, how to make it, or how to produce the sample.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s these skilled workers who set the standards; after receiving the blueprint, the workers who calculate the data establish different standards, because there’s usually only one blueprint, yet they must produce many sizes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How these measurements are arranged isn’t arbitrary—it requires scientific calculation. Once the blueprints for different sizes are finalized, they’re handed to the Master Cutters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The skilled cutters use these blueprint measurements to create components, then lay them on the prepared fabric for cutting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some directly draw the patterns onto the first piece of fabric, then cut the rest following that one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What comes out are individual fabric pieces; if no one tells the ordinary workers how to assemble them, they won’t be able to do it well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then comes the Master Tailor’s work—he sews these pieces together according to the blueprint, determining seam allowances and stitch depth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The finished garment still isn’t shaped properly—it must go to the Master Presser, who, after one glance at the blueprint, knows exactly how to press it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The final result, after being ironed, is a garment identical to the blueprint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This entire process is called “making the sample.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ogg was responsible for sewing—also a crucial step.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wants to keep this easy, high-income job, but it’s hard, because the influence his role holds within the factory makes employers worry about his future performance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But if he’s willing to accept lower pay and give up such a critical position, perhaps a factory will hire him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet if he lowers his wage, they’ll never repay that debt!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ogg’s wife desperately needs a job that earns money—whether for feeding their family now or planning for the long term.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Women don’t need to pout; just lowering their voice in pleading is enough to stir pity in some men.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Madam, actually… I may say something very inappropriate, but given your current situation, it’s hard to find suitable work in Jingang City.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you can accept a wage of just a few dollars a month, you might try—but those jobs are either exhausting or filthy, and utterly undignified.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This isn’t about gender discrimination—it’s that a full-time housewife suddenly entering society lacks the necessary survival skills.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She has no college or vocational diploma, so she can’t find a matching job; jobs like sales require strong social skills, which Ogg’s wife may not possess.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter spoke nothing but truth—he felt sympathy for this woman, but he couldn’t lie out of pity; now wasn’t the time for lies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, Ogg’s wife was on the verge of despair—a wage of a few dollars a month wouldn’t even cover hospital bills, let alone living expenses and personal needs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if they cut daily spending to fifty cents—bread alone costs about twenty cents—war escalation and the destruction of grain regions in the Tanfet Continent by artillery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the civil war in the Empire of the Eastern Continent destroyed vast farmland, still in the process of being replanted, so food prices kept rising.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From six years ago, when Old Joe’s Bakery sold whole wheat bread at five cents a pound, prices have climbed to now needing twelve or thirteen cents for a pound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Prices have more than doubled, yet people’s incomes have risen by only about fifteen percent, while facing a twenty percent basic tax and war tax!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The cost of living keeps rising.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A wage of a few dollars a month won’t even feed them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is there… no job I can do in this world?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ogg’s wife covered her face and wept—she was truly desperate!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her husband was injured and lost his job; they owe the hospital a huge sum, rumored to reach over a thousand dollars with interest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their house is gone too, Ogg still can’t find work, and no one knows when he’ll recover.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The weight of life has suddenly crushed her shoulders—she now feels more desperate and powerless than her husband.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Watching Ogg’s wife cry, the reporter suddenly realized: offering her this choice wasn’t harming her—it might be saving her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If this family truly fell into despair, they might, as the editor said, jump from somewhere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking of this, the reporter clenched his lips, “Madam, there is a job that requires no experience or diploma—and pays very well.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The woman looked up, wiping her tears, then walked over and grabbed the reporter’s arm, urgently asking, “What is it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter opened his mouth, the words on his tongue, yet hard to speak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Please tell me! I beg you!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter took a deep breath, “Streetwalking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He saw Ogg’s wife didn’t understand, so he explained, “Those girls and women who ask passersby for help. Prices have dropped due to refugee influx, but still, each time earns two dollars.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You look young, and you have an air those women lack—you’ll attract clients, and you could charge even more.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just three or five clients a day earns you ten dollars…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ogg’s wife initially resisted hearing this, but when he mentioned earning ten dollars a day, her eyes widened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the reporter’s agony, it shifted to Ogg’s wife’s agony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She needed money—just as the reporter needed a big story!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter watched her expression closely—he knew Ogg’s wife would very likely choose this path, and he hadn’t lied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a man, he preferred such girls forced into it—it gave him a perverse thrill of destroying something beautiful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And a small woman, a federal small woman, with her story—this would be incredibly compelling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ogg’s wife said nothing; she remained silent. The reporter didn’t press further—he knew someone else needed to push her one last time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When they returned home that night, the couple stayed silent. Their daughter saw dinner was only a slice of bread, no jam or side dish—she took the bread and went back to her room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, the third day—they both went out looking for work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The more they searched, the more desperate they became!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ogg had lowered his wage demand to fifty cents, yet still no one would hire him—he was utterly hopeless!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At noon, he returned home. His wife was packing clothes. “Are you going out?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She shook her head. “We have no money left—not even for dinner. I need to sell some clothes to buy food.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ogg lowered his head and returned to the room, not coming out. His wife quietly packed some clothes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among them were new clothes she’d bought last year—she’d worn them twice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first time was when she bought them; the second, during New Year’s. She loved this dress—but now, she’d sell her favorite.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She bowed her head, tears falling one by one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Selling old clothes went poorly—this dress cost Ogg ninety-nine cents, but passersby offered only thirty-five cents, demanding she add a skirt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Items worth one dollar and forty-eight cents were now worth only thirty-five cents—barely enough for their lunch and dinner today!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the first time, she understood: “Life is hard” meant just to afford two meals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After arguing with a customer who called her a whore and stormed off, her spirits sank again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a while, she looked at the reporter, “Can you really earn ten dollars a day?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she began packing—she had made her decision.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A few minutes from home, she stopped, glancing at the bread in the bakery window, then turned to the reporter, “Can you give me two dollars?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter looked at her in confusion, “I can’t do that.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A determined smile appeared on her face, “You’re my first client.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moments later, she returned home with a loaf of bread, plus two tomatoes and a few leaves of greens bought from the roadside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luckily, they still had seasonings—soon, a simple vegetable sandwich was made, looking far better than yesterday’s.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Did you sell the clothes?” Ogg asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His wife nodded. “Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ogg buried his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She just smiled. “Eat. Eat well—you’ll need strength to look for work tomorrow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their daughter returned, saw the modest but improved dinner, and her mood seemed to stabilize.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The three exchanged a few empty words, then parted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, Ogg left first, then their daughter. The wife stayed behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She looked at the reporter. “What’s my first step?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter felt a stir of excitement—he’d never spoken to a woman like this before. “You need a memorable name.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Like what?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Candy!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Next came the natural conversation phase. Ogg’s wife, weeping, completed her first job. When it ended, the reporter couldn’t help offering work advice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Once you’re done, you can stand up, clean yourself, return to your spot, and wait for the next client.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Pay attention to hygiene—it determines whether clients return.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You can appear more vulnerable—tell them your troubles if they’re willing to talk.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If someone tries to harm you, refuse and call for help.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If a client wants something more intense, within your limits, you can agree—and ask for more…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He spoke at length about the job’s precautions—all of which the new woman, Ms. Candy, memorized tightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she put on her favorite clothes and skirt, fixed her appearance, and left home with the reporter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter had previously covered stories about streetwalkers; most journalists seeking awards focus on these social dark spots and pain points.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But reporting only that some women turn to streetwalking out of vanity or unwillingness to work hard never sparks public outcry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At most, people think these girls are damn lowlife—yet they still pay when it’s time, and that doesn’t stop them from thinking the girls are lowlife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So he knew very well the current situation of streetwalking in Jingang City.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the Lans family took control of the entire city, the condition of streetwalkers improved significantly—they had people protecting these girls from perverts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter brought Candi to the busiest street in the Imperial District; though it was still morning, there were already many streetwalkers there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some men were watching these women.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Candi appeared, many men’s eyes lit up—they saw fear in her eyes, and it sparked their interest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some even planned to approach, but the reporter raised his hand to stop them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Next, I’ll take you to register. They’ll give you a physical exam, then issue you a work badge—you can’t stand on the street without it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This struck her as unbelievable; she hadn’t known streetwalking now required so many rules.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter smiled and explained, “It’s a Lans family regulation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon they arrived at the place the reporter mentioned. After filling out the form, a female nurse led her into a room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside the room was a female doctor, a specialist who examined diseases related to this trade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When everything was finished, she received her work badge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As she and the reporter walked outside, she still felt confused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They asked if she was forced, if anyone had threatened her, and so on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most importantly, she was worried—because all the information she’d filled in on the form was real.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Will they leak my information?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She felt nervous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter shook his head. “You don’t need to worry. Recording your personal details is only to prevent them from not knowing who you are in extreme cases.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Under normal circumstances, no one will ever look through those files.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Candi didn’t understand what the reporter meant—it was actually to handle corpse traceability for sex workers, allowing quick identification of the deceased.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter took her to a nearby inn and told her to bring clients there; this inn specialized in this business, and each time she had to pay fifteen cents.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If she rented a room long-term, the price would be lower, but since she was just starting, there was no need to rent one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He also told her many details—for example, if a client asked to take her away, she had to return to the registration desk to log it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Near lunchtime, she finally took her position on the street, wearing her favorite clothes and skirt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She thought she’d have to wait a while, but only five minutes passed before a client approached.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had a small mustache, slight balding, and a slightly chubby build.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“First time?” the mustached man asked—not about price, but something he cared about.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Candi nodded nervously. The mustached man smiled contentedly. “How much?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Remembering the reporter’s words, Candi stammered nervously, “Three yuan.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The mustached man frowned. Just as she wondered whether to lower the price, he suddenly smiled. “Fair enough.” He pulled out three yuan and slipped it into her hand, then casually wrapped his arm around her. “Let’s go…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Candi grew even more nervous—but beneath it, a faint thrill she hadn’t even recognized stirred inside her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So… three yuan was already in her hand?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She glanced at the reporter by the roadside. He smiled at her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The mustached man noticed this too. His smile grew even more satisfied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is that your husband?” he asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Candi froze, then quickly denied it—but the mustached man seemed certain the reporter was her husband.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ten minutes later, they came downstairs. Overall, the mustached man was satisfied, though he felt his performance had been subpar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Candi gave one yuan to the innkeeper, received her change, and stared at the two yuan and eighty-five cents in her hand—overwhelmed by a feeling she couldn’t even name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a busy day; a new girl had arrived, and many were eager to try fresh merchandise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nighttime business was better, but Candi didn’t yet know how to tell Ogg she’d be coming home earlier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At dinner, Ogg noticed she seemed off and asked. She brushed it off by saying she’d fallen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lying in bed, she couldn’t sleep, turning and tossing. She didn’t know how to tell her husband that in just one day, she’d earned over forty yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2490,"2026-06-19T21:10:31.886Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","7acd36060c70865d3681a3eff833121bbf95e060bb96fc42b82792895852f265","the-shadow-empire-chapter-930","the-shadow-empire-chapter-928",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-shadow-empire-cover.jpg"]